


The Princess Who Never Smiled

by EntameWitchLulu



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fairy Tale Retellings, Gen, Implied Future Pendulumshipping, Miracle Illusions Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:26:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26244880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntameWitchLulu/pseuds/EntameWitchLulu
Summary: Princess Reira has been cursed: she will never smile, and so long as she does not, her family's kingdom will wither. Reiji is determined to free his younger sister from the curse - but how can he do so when magic has been outlawed?
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	The Princess Who Never Smiled

A startling ninety percent of curses placed on royalty occur during the first week of a royal child’s birth — usually during the first public celebrations, such as naming ceremonies. This is not surprising, as this is one of the easiest times for a fairy, wizard, witch, sorcerer, dragon-in-disguise, etc., to get within curse-laying range in the first place. Thus, royalty had the right to be awfully cautious in today’s day and age. One unfortunate curse could topple an entire kingdom in a matter of weeks. 

As far as curses went, Crown Prince Reiji Akaba, Heir Apparent to Maiami Kingdom, had to admit he had gotten off rather lucky. Maiami’s notorious anti-magic sentiments, following the unfortunate kidnapping of his older sister by a dragon on her sixteenth birthday, had resulted in his first week of birth being attended by scores of guards, insulated with anti-magic-steel. No one was allowed to even lay eyes on him until he was two years old. At sixteen, now, he was nearly safe, and there had not been hide nor hair of so much as a talking cat in the kingdom since the end of the king’s tireless war of revenge for his missing daughter.

Still, just a few more years, and Reiji, at least, would be safe from curses or worse, in his opinion, a sudden heroic quest which would drag him away from his studies and duties.

He wasn’t out of the waters yet, though; he reminded himself often — though, with the encroaching birth of his new baby sister, he had little reason to believe he was the primary target. With yet another sister in the crossfire...Reiji was loath to leave anything up to chance, though. Magic was illegal in Maiami, which as far as Reiji was concerned, was a terrible mistake. Even learning how to defend oneself from it was illegal, because so often, the only good defense against magic was magic. It was a flaw his father ignored. Maiami had their own magicians, magic would be less of a threat.

But his father suffered from tunnel vision. It was up to Reiji to find new options.

Thus, his mission for tonight.

Reiji kept his head low and his hood lower as he slipped through the back gate. Down the road, colorful danced over the walls, bringing with them the sound of laughter, music, and applause.

He had worried that he might stand out despite his plain cloak, but he had planned his entrance well. Everyone was far too drunk to take notice of him, and the jugglers caught most attention. Reiji moved with the swell of the crowd, trying not to feel impatient. These celebrations for Reira’s birth were well and good, but Reiji couldn’t help but wonder if the chaos would make it that much easier for someone with ill intent to lay a curse on his baby sister.

He arrived at the end of the lane, still surrounded by crowds. A magician stood at this end, his red and green hair mussed by his hat, and the whole crowd gasped when his pins all suddenly caught fire as he juggled them. Reiji flicked his eyes away and looked for the sign. It did not take him long to locate the swinging sign. The firelight played across the carving of a dragon’s foot losing all its claws, though the name of the bar had worn away. Someone already waited beneath the sign, and he edged around the enamored crowd to them.

The man did not lift his head as Reiji casually stood beside him, but even if he had, it was impossible to see his face. Even beneath the cloak, a thick blue cloth covered Reiji’s retainer’s mouth and nose.

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the magician catch his pins, pass them behind his hat, and then begin to juggle them again — only for them all to turn into large fish that dropped one at a time onto his head while he jumped with an exaggerated surprise, drawing bellows of laughter. A faint smile tugged at his own lips in spite of himself. There was something brazen about it. Stage magic was barely indistinguishable from real, and could get him arrested. But he continued without seemingly a care in the world, gathering up his flopping fish and stuffing them into the front of his shirt, only for them to spill back out in a rain of confetti instead. Reiji found himself smiling again.

Reiji’s retainer shifted, and Reiji glanced towards him without turning his head.

“Have you found it?” Reiji asked.

Tsukikage nodded. Without turning, he held something out. Beneath their cloaks, they exchanged the item. The crystal settled into his palm. He did not look, but he shivered at the cool, relaxing feeling that passed through him. He transferred it into his pocket without looking at it, or at his contact.

“Thank you,” Reiji said. “You’re sure this will work?”

“Directly from Heartland. It deflects curses. I saw it tested myself.”

There were few he trusted as much as the Fuma brothers, and their loyalty to him over these many years. The pendant, as illegal as it was, would protect Reira. He could pass it off as nothing more than a birthday present.

Reiji watched the stage magician gather up his confetti, press it between his palms, and turn it into a rain of streamers that descended among the crowd. Reiji tightened his fist around the little pendant in his pocket, feeling its cool protection seep up his arm. It would protect his baby sister. He would do what he had to.

“Thank you.”

Tsukikage nodded, and when Reiji glanced beside him, he was gone, as quiet as a breath.

Reiji let out a breath of his own. The magician bowed, thanking the crowd, and a few threw coins to him which he scooped up into his top hat. Most began to wander away, the show finished, to find other performers who continued to ply their trade. Reiji leaned away from the wall. He would move along with them, back to the palace, and he would gift the pendant to his baby sister. She would be safer even than he. He would not lose another sibling to a curse, to a dragon, or to anything. Something like relief slumped his shoulders. He had spent every nearly waking moment of his life worried about magic, curses, about quests, and then about the birth of his sister, wondering if this one, too, might disappear into the aether.

The magician stood alone on his little stage, now, reaching into his hat to count the coins. Reiji straightened, and began to walk slowly towards the other lane, after those who filtered away from the show. He glanced briefly at the magician, who had now put down his hat and began to roll up the rainbow cloth he had pulled from his sleeve. 

It was impulsive, but, well...the magician had been good, and deserved some reward for his talent. Reiji wandered to the stage, and tossed a coin into the hat. The magician looked up, and this close, Reiji realized how young he was — the same age as Reiji, perhaps.

And then he smiled, and it glowed — as though happiness exuded from him so it was nearly impossible to not feel a smile within oneself when looking at it.

“Thank you very much, sir,” the magician said, sweeping a bow. “But I can’t accept your coins like that!”

Reiji blinked.

“What do you mean?”

The magician put a finger to his nose, still smiling.

“You’re not smiling! How can I accept your coin when I haven’t even done my job?”

Reiji’s lips parted as the magician hopped from the stage. Before Reiji could move, the magician reached behind his ear — and returned with a rose as large as his hand. Reiji’s eyes widened. He hadn’t seen how the magician could have managed it.

The magician smiled and pretended to take a big sniff of the rose — which then sprayed him in the face with water. He spluttered and pawed at his face with such an exaggerated surprise that Reiji couldn’t help it. Something bubbled up inside him. A laugh spilled from his throat before he knew it was there, and his eyes widened with surprise, covering his mouth. The magician had obviously done it on purpose but — but he looked so shocked. He couldn’t believe how funny he found it.

When Reiji regained control of himself again, the magician grinned so huge that it seemed to transfer itself to Reiji’s own lips. He covered his mouth, blushing at his display.

“There!” the magician said. “Now I’ve earned that coin of yours.”

Reiji studied the magician. He was shorter than Reiji, bouncing on his high-heeled boots with his hands clasped behind him beneath his long white cloak. His red and green hair crinkled beneath his tall hat. Reiji tilted his head at his bright, smiling face.

“Might I ask why you took the time for a single passer-by?” he said. “The rest of your crowd didn’t receive such individual service.”

The magician’s smile somehow grew even warmer. He tapped a finger to his lips.

“You looked like you hadn’t laughed for a long time,” the magician said, smiling. “Like you could use a smile more than most.”

A warmth spread through Reiji that he couldn’t place the meaning of. He coughed into his hand, turning his eyes quickly away. It was almost difficult to look at, so warm and so full of true happiness — a happiness he wasn’t sure he had ever felt.

“I...well, perhaps you’re right,” he said. He had well...most of his life in his library, studying curses and magic and dragons along with his other duties. He truly couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed.

The magician smiled even softer, and something strange welled within Reiji, a feeling that culminated in a tentative smile rising to his lips again. The magician’s eye caught on something, and he smiled.

“Ah,” he said, pointing to Reiji’s hand. “What a lovely pendant.”

Reiji started, realizing that he had been gripping the pendant so tightly, that it had come out of his pocket with his hand. He tried to shield it, but the magician had gently touched it once, so that the chain slid and dangled from Reiji’s fingers.

“You know, where I come from, we call these pendulums.”

“Pendulums?”

The magician nodded. He pulled lightly on the chain. The pendant began to swing from its chain, back and forth. Reiji watched, mesmerized, as light played through the crystal.

Fireworks popped, lighting the sky and prompting roaring cheers. Reiji looked up, his lips parting. The lights hung suspended against the stars for a moment.

Lips brushed his cheek. Reiji startled and looked down, a hand raising to his cheek. The magician danced backwards, laughing.

“If you haven’t smiled in a long time,” he said, “think of the pendulum! No matter how sad things get, a smile will always swing back to you.”

Reiji’s cheeks heated. He opened his mouth, a question on his tongue — what is your name?

And then, among the sounds of fireworks crackling, something else broke across the night. Bells. Raucous bells that shook through his chest and wiped away the smile that had blossomed within him.

Those bells meant —

Reira — 

Mind screaming with fear, Reiji turned and fled, running as fast as he could back towards the palace. 

He ran, bouncing off bodies stopped in the street to listen with uncertainty to the bells that no one had heard for years. Danger. Danger. Danger.

Breath tore claw marks into Reiji’s lungs as he burst through the doors with the pendant burning into his palm. His mother shrieked and his father swore, and the tall, black-robed figure hovered over Reira’s crib with arms outstretched.

“She will never smile,” the sorcerer sneered. “She will never laugh. And so long as no joy escapes her, your kingdom will wither.”

The room grew tight, airless as the magic sucked away the oxygen, and Reiji collapsed to his knees, the useless charm clattering to the floor. For a moment, the world stopped.

Reira began to cry. Reiji opened his eyes and stared at the crib, shaking.

He had been too late. And as Reira continued to cry, the sound seemed to lodge itself in his heart.

* * *

When the first harvest came in the year of the princess’s birth, grain filled only half the silos. The farmers could not understand why. They had planted as much as ever, and the weather had been fine growing weather, the soil had been fertile, and there had been no sickness or infestation. Still, a lean year here or there wasn’t uncommon, and it passed without comment.

After her second year, the silos were filled with only half of the last harvest, and this time, the ground began to look dry and cracked, no matter how it was tilled or fertilized or how the crops were rotated.

By the third year, silos were nearly empty, and the people were realizing that something was wrong.

The prince had not been seen in public in years. Whispers from staff said he was only to be found in the library, poring over book after book, muttering to himself and scribbling notations that none could read save for him. The queen retreated to her bedchambers, and rumors whispered that she had rejected her new child, who was confined to the nursery with a rotating door of new nurses, all of whom eventually disappeared, muttering, to those who might hear, that there was something very wrong with the child. 

And the king grew ever angrier, ever easier to flare into rage, while the country grew hungrier, and the tides of desperation began to turn their eyes towards other, richer countries, with resources to spare for a starving kingdom.

By the fourth year, even vegetation ceased to grow, and wild game moved to greener pastures. Other kingdoms began to whisper of curses, and frightened, withdrew their aid. The youth of the kingdom were conscripted, until villages were peopled by only the elderly and the children left behind, new soldiers forced to march on neighboring kingdoms with aching bellies to conquer enough to survive.

By the fifth year, newly conquered territories began to wither as well.

At the sixth year, the king relented, and told the truth. Messengers went to all corners of the kingdoms, promising wealth, riches, and the granting of any desire within the throne’s ability to anyone who might be able to make the princess smile.

The procession of clowns, comedians, bards, and performers stretched from all corners of the world, trying their hand one after the other.

The princess sat on her throne in the center of the room, alone but for her family seated around her, and stared with blank eyes as jokes were cracked, faces were made, and slapstick was slapped.

She never smiled. The kingdom dried up. Conquered lands pushed slowly back, eating at the edges of the territory that had once been theirs, and then nibbling at the edges of what had never been. The kingdom’s people migrated, trickling from towns and over borders, marveling at how the brown earth ended sharply before the lusher greens of other kingdoms.

As the princess’s tenth birthday approached, the stream of performers ran dry, trickling to a stop.

She still had not smiled, not even once since her birth. She had hardly spoken.

She only watched a dying kingdom with haunted, hollow eyes, eyes much older than a girl of nine ought to have.

It seemed to many that it was time to give up.

* * *

Reiji startled awake, his head aching, and the imprint of the book before him left on his cheek. He groaned, rubbing at his eyes with his hand. What time...

He looked at the clock and sighed. Nearly noon. He chided himself silently as he pushed from the table, bones aching. Sleeping position aside, he had been sitting in this chair since dawn. He’d desperately hoped that these new books he’d had secretly imported from Heartland would prove more useful in the art of curse-breaking ... but once again, he met a dead-end.

At twenty-six, he was far past the age for curses. He was well into the age where he ought to be learning how to rule when his father abdicated. At twenty-six, he ought to have been married, in some advantageous union that would help solidify his country’s prosperity.

But he had only a dying kingdom to rule, one that no noble would willingly marry into. Until Reira could smile...

The library door creaked open. One large, unblinking eye peeked through the crack.

“Reira,” he said softly. “You can come in.”

She pushed the door open slowly, almost shyly, as though Reiji might change his mind. He shifted to an armchair instead of the tough desk chair, and Reira scurried over, clambering into his lap. He gasped when her knee knocked into his and then dug into his stomach, but he wrapped his arms around her, helping her settle herself.

“Is mother screaming again?”

Reira turned her head into his shoulder. Her shoulders shook. Gently, he stroked her hair, trying to soothe her.

Reira had stopped crying, or making any sound at all, at four. As the sorcerer had cursed, she had never once smiled, seeming to exude nothing but sorrow — and, when mother got into one of her moods, fear.

He could not bring himself to smile for her, as reassurance. So he only stroked her hair and let his tired eyes droop, hoping for some truth about countercurses to suddenly manifest before him. There was only so much that the Fumas could smuggle to him without attracting Father’s anger.

As though Reiji’s thoughts summoned him, the doors flung open, and the light from the hallway framed the shape of his father.

His father’s deep set eyes swung around to Reiji. He did not scowl, but his face seemed to deepen its lines.

“Still here, are you?” he said. “Still with your books?”

“I’m seeking a way to save our kingdom,” Reiji said, tense.

“And you’ll find it here, will you?” Father said, dark eyes growing darker. “If you were half the child your sister was, you would have taken up a sword by now, and hunted down the sorcerer who cursed us.”

“The sorcerer cursed Reira, not us,” Reiji said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “And killing a sorcerer does not undo their curses.”

He tried not to let the low fury rise any higher. Thoughts swirling about how Ray’s sword had not saved her from the dragon. How not a single soul in the Four Kingdoms had gone to her rescue like all the fairy tales said they should; how even if they did, a fool who went up against magic with nothing but a sword as though they were inside a fairy tale would be dead in a breath. How this curse never would have happened had Leo not caused such pain to magicians in his first horrible war, inviting retaliation.

But defending his research never went well with Father, and the pain of Ray’s disappearance was always a sore spot between them. Especially not with Reira in his arms, trembling with her hands over her ears.

“And how has your research solved the problem?”

“More than your warmongering has achieved.”

His father’s lips tightened. Reiji needed to leave, before they broke down into the usual fight and upset Reira further. Reiji rose, gathering Reira up with him.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“Out,” Reiji said. “Before we devolve further into childish insults.”

“You cannot leave the palace.”

“And what will happen, father? Another curse? There is very little anyone could do to make things worse.”

Reiji forced past Father and into the hall, making his way towards the palace gates.

Reira tapped to be let down at the gates, and Reiji held her hand while tired guards lifted the portcullis.

The town was little more than dust, the air dry. Some sat outside their houses, gaunt and blank. Reiji’s stomach rumbled — he had eaten, but very little. Rationing was for everyone, regardless of status. He may only be a prince, but it was still his duty to protect his people. And he had failed them. The useless pendulum, proof of his failure, still hung about Reira’s neck.

The market would likely be empty, with so little to sell, making for a quiet walk. However...Reiji was surprised to hear...laughter. He frowned.

“Oh, dear, where did my handkerchief go? Do you have it, sir?”

Reiji started, eyes widening. There was a crowd. A sizeable number of people gathered around a dusty dais, and — and they were laughing.

Atop the stage, a magician in a white cloak patted exaggeratedly at his pockets. 

“Ah!” he said, eyes lighting up. “Is this it?”

He pulled fabric from his pocket, and then his eyes grew comically huge, as the handkerchief continued to grow as he pulled more and more from his pocket — and then a fish popped out, tied to the end of it. The crowd roared with laughter, and light glinted nostalgically off the pendulum.

The magician scratched his head as he considered the flopping fish. Then he tossed it into the air, and it turned into colored smoke. Reiji looked at Reira, wondering if the show affected her

But she only watched, and when she noticed his gaze, she stared back. He sagged. Nothing at all could move her, could it? She would be sad and hollow forever.

“Thank you so much for attending! No, no, my friends, no coins— today the fee is only your smiles!”

The crowd reluctantly dispersed at the show’s end. The magician sat down on the edge of the stage, waving his too-long handkerchief. A large smile adorned his face as he watched the crowd filter back to their lives — though, Reiji realized with some surprise that many of them still smiled. Even glowing.

Then he noticed Reiji and Reira. He smiled.

“Hello!” he said. “You can come closer, if you’d like. I don’t bite — oh, my handkerchief might, though.”

He flapped out the handkerchief, and in his hands, it turned into butterflies.

“Oh, my mistake! It actually won’t bite either!”

He smiled as the butterflies fled like rainbow confetti, and the memory finally snapped together.

“I remember you,” Reiji said. “It’s you. From the festival. You spoke of the pendulum...”

The magician’s eyes flickered to the pendant about Reira’s neck. He smiled again.

“That’s right!” he said. “We’ve swung back together after all!”

Then he frowned, tapping his lips.

“It looks like I failed to do my job again, though,” he said. “You haven’t smiled since the last time I saw you, have you?”

Reiji started. How...how could he tell with such ease?

“That’s no good,” the magician said, sighing. “How can I call myself a Magician of Smiles if I can’t get them to last a little longer?”

His eyes dropped to Reira then, and his whole face softened. Reira stared, her eyes big and blank, and the magician looked overwhelmingly sad. He dropped to one knee before her. Reiji watched closely as the magician reached behind her ear, and by no sleight of hand he could catch, a rose appeared in his hand.

“For you, princess.”

Reira stared at the rose. She reached for it with both hands, holding it up to her eyes. She looked calmer than she’d ever been — but she did not smile. He slumped. He had...part of him had hoped...

“What a deep curse,” the magician said mournfully, patting Reira gently on the head. “I’ve rarely seen such a cruel one.”

Reiji’s gaze snapped to him.

“How do you know?” he said. “That it’s a curse?”

“Everyone knows this kingdom is cursed. Many bards I know came here hoping to bring a smile to the princess’s face.”

Reiji relaxed — of course. It was public knowledge. The magician rose, still looking sadly at Reira.

“But to know how deep it is — well, I know the work of this sorcerer. Roget has never been particularly subtle, or kind...he gives magic a bad name.”

It took a moment for this to sink in, and then Reiji grabbed Reira’s shoulder, pulling her close to him, staring at the magician with narrow eyes.

“Are you admitting to me, the Crown Prince of Maiami Kingdom, that you are a sorcerer?”

Apple red eyes met Reiji’s. Then a soft smile lifted his lips. He bowed, sweeping his hat from his head.

“I am Yuya Sakaki,” he said. “I am called the Magician of Smiles, or I would like to be. I am no sorcerer, but if it’s magic you believe me to have, then you are correct. I was born with dragon’s blood, and magic is my birthright and joy.”

He replaced his hat.

“Magic is not a tool for sadness,” he said, spreading his hands. “It’s a means of making others happy. But to those who have been hurt by it, I understand their fear. Sorcerers like Roget get most of the publicity, I’m afraid.”

Reiji still tensed, but he considered Yuya carefully. He remembered his smile from all those years ago, as warm as though it were yesterday. He had studied many forces in the world — none were evil at heart. Gravity would draw on down, but gravity was no murderer — it was they who decided to push another. Yuya must speak the truth. It was only logical.

“If you’re a magician,” he said, his voice suddenly tight. “A true magician...can you — can you save her?”

He gripped Reira’s shoulders in front of him, and Reira looked up at the magician with her deep eyes. Yuya’s brow furrowed.

“I...I might,” he said. “But breaking another sorcerer’s curse is difficult. I’d need to study it. Find out what truly anchors it. It would take time.”

“We cannot get much worse than we are,” Reiji said wryly. “You may have all the time you need — at least, until our country withers into dust, and Reira’s heart along with it.”

Yuya looked at him. Then at Reira. He smiled that soft smile of his.

“Well we can’t have that, can we?” he said. “I’ll do it, Prince. Whatever I must to help her.”

A relief unlike anything crashed through him. Could this be it? The miracle he had been seeking? He could hardly stand for the crushing relief that washed through him.

The clang of metal broke the quiet. He tensed, and Reira nearly crushed the rose in her hand. Reiji whirled. Four armed guards careened around the corner. And behind them — Father. His face alight with anger, eyes fixed on — Yuya.

Oh no.

“Father!” Reiji shouted over the clang of metal as they were surrounded. “Father, don’t! He is not our enemy!”

Lances lowered anyway, guards pushing Reiji and Reira aside and behind them so they could advance on Yuya, enclosing him within a circle of spears. Yuya glanced from one armored face to another, almost casually.

Father approached, his face almost pale with anger.

“You mock our kingdom even now?” he said. “You blasted sorcerers — will there be no end to you?!”

“Father!” Reiji said. “He is not — ”

Father whirled on Reiji, his eyes alight.

“If you believe a word from a sorcerer’s mouth, you are a greater fool than I thought!” he roared. “There is no good magic in this world!”

Reira trembled, tears bubbling as she clung to Reiji’s legs. Reiji turned, horrified, towards the boxed in Yuya — no, he’d been — he’d been so close —

Yuya’s eyes flickered. And something seemed to spark within him.

“Ah,” he whispered. “I understand.”

He tilted his brim over his face, and before a single spear could touch him, he simply breathed out.

A plume of white smoke exploded from where he had been, and spears pierced only air. Feet onto a roof, and all whirled as one to see the swirl of Yuya’s cloak as he alighted on the nearest shop.

“Don’t worry, Prince!” he called. “I’ll be back to bring a smile to the princess’s face — and to yours as well!”

He winked and spun on his heel.

“We shall swing back once again!”

“Do not let him escape!” Father shouted

But Yuya only smiled, swept his hat from his head, and bowed — and in a flash like lightning, that left the air tasting of strawberries, he was gone.

Reiji stared. He slid to his knees, and embraced Reira, trying to shield her from the shouting. He closed his eyes.

Between them, the pendulum dug into their skin.

* * *

Though few made appearances, the procession of comedians still took place every fortnight, more out of tradition than a real belief it would yield any good. The family would sit like statues, and watch blankly as the latest comedian made their attempt conjuring nothing but blank, stony stares.

Today, none had arrived. They waited as long as necessary, and then Father rose, shaking his head— except, then, the door opened. A guard peeked in, bowing hurriedly.

“My apologies, Your Majesties,...but there’s a latecomer.”

Father sighed. He slumped back into his chair.

“Send them in,” he said. “Not that it shall do any good.”

The guard nodded, and opened the door further.

They did not look like a comedian. They were old and bent, dressed in a ragged cloak. Reira only stared. Reiji sighed, leaning into his hand. Would Yuya ever reappear? It had been days since their meeting.

“Hello, hello,” they said. “Hello there, princess, there you are.”

“Get on with it,” Father said.

“Of course, of course.”

They shuffled forward, and up the stairs. They didn’t normally do that. He flicked his eyes at his father, but he seemed completely uninvolved in the proceedings.

The old figure reached Reira.

“Hello there, little one,” they said, smiling beneath their cloak. “What a pretty pendulum.”

Reiji sat up straight in his seat. They’d called it...

Yuya smiled, and winked from beneath his hood, putting a finger to his lips. He took a step back towards the stairs.

“And now, let’s see if we can’t —”

He stepped on the hem of his cloak, and his eyes widened. He tripped, arms wheeling, teetering comically as his cloak fell away. Then Yuya tumbled, crashing down the stairs and falling...right into a mud puddle that certainly hadn’t been there before.

“Oh dear,” he said, hair flopping into his face. “That certainly wasn’t graceful — oops!”

When he tried to get up, he slipped with even more comical exaggeration, landing on his back. Reiji thought he saw Father waving for guards, but then something...peculiar happened.

A fish waddled in through the doors, walking on its tail. Everyone stopped to stare at the fish, as it waddled to Yuya.

“Hello there,” the fish said, speaking with Yuya’s voice. “Do you need some help?”

“I do, actually,” said Yuya back to the fish.

The fish, understandably, did not have much to offer. When Yuya grabbed hold of its offered fin, it simply flopped into the puddle.

“Oh dear,” said the fish.

Reiji couldn’t help it. It was so utterly ridiculous that he snorted.

Father and Mother both turned to stare at him with surprise, but Reiji hardly noticed, pressing a hand to his mouth. Something bubbled within him.

Yuya winked. The fish flopped uselessly, trying to get back on its tail, but splattering Yuya with mud.

It was — what on earth — 

It was just another snort, first. Then it bubbled in Reiji’s throat, choking him — oh gods, he was about to — 

The laugh simply tore out of him, a sound unlike any he’d ever made in his entire life. He couldn’t breathe. 

“What,” he gasped, “is your obsession with fish?”

And then he heard it. Another laugh. A laugh he had never heard before.

He nearly stopped breathing as he spun in his seat towards Reira.

Her entire face was alight, her body wriggled with the movement of the laughter that rang out of her like a bell.

Reiji flew from his seat and ran to Reira’s side, as she rocked with the full force of the joy, the first she had ever felt. 

A dam broke in Reiji. Tears blurred as he squeezed her tight, absorbing the sound of her first laugh — another laugh of his own escaped him, and then the two of them collapsed. Somehow more shocking, a surprised laugh spilled from Father, and then one from Mother, as the two of them slumped in their seats, crumpling in on themselves.

A soft breath of movement caused him to look up into Yuya’s shining smile, as Yuya crouched beside them.

“Thank you,” Reiji breathed. “Oh gods — but — how did you do it?”

Yuya winked, taking Reiji’s hand when Reiji reached for him.

“Are you going to tell me that a magician never tells his secrets?”

“It’s not much of a secret,” Yuya said with a laugh of his own. “How can anyone smile, if no one around them ever does?”

Reiji’s lips parted.

Had...had it been that simple?

He looked down at the giggling Reira, who still looked to him, her eyes alight. His eyes blurred. Oh, of course it was true, it had been that simple. How could Reira smile when she had never seen so much as a grin? When Reiji himself had not laughed in a decade?

“Your Majesty!” a guard shouted, bursting in. “Outside! Everything’s turned green! The curse is broken!”

A cheer rose among the laughter, rocking the room.

Reiji looked to Father. Father looked at him, and at Yuya. It was difficult to know his thoughts. If he reconsidered anything at all. But today would not be the day that Reiji learned that answer. For now, he turned his eyes aside, towards the laughter that poured from Reira’s lips, and he reached for Yuya’s hand.

“Yuya,” Reiji said, in between laughs. “Thank you. You know, you’ve earned a reward. I’ll make my father make good on his promise.”

Yuya only smiled, and leaned forward. His lips touched Reiji’s cheek, as they had once so very long ago.

“All I need is your smile,” he said. “Though I hope, perhaps, I might have the chance to see it more often.”

Reiji smiled. 

“I think,” he said, as the pendulum swung with a light all its own from Reira’s laughter, “that can be arranged.”


End file.
